kinds of
men. One of the wisest advisers in river-law he had ever known was
a priest; one of the best friends of the legislation of the medical
profession was a woman; one of the bravest Ministers who had ever
quarrelled with and conquered his colleagues had been an insurance
agent; one of the sanest authorities on maritime law had been a man with
a greater pride in his verses than in his practical capacity; and here
was Carnac, who had painted pictures and made statues, plunging into
politics with a policy as ingenious as his own, and as capable of
logical presentation. This boy, who was bone of his bone and flesh of
his flesh, meant to fight him. He threw back his head and laughed. His
boy, his son, meant to fight him, did he? Well, so be it! He got to his
feet, and walked up and down the room.

"God, what an issue this!" he said. "It would be terrific, if he won. To
wipe me out of the life where I have flourished--what a triumph for him!
And he would not know how great the triumph would be. She has not told
him. Yet she will urge him on. Suppose it was she put the idea into his
head!"

Then he threw back his head, shaking the long brown hair, browner than
Carnac's, from his forehead. "Suppose she did this thing--she who was
all mine for one brief moment! Suppose she--"

Every nerve tingled; every drop of blood beat hard against his walls of
flesh; his every vicious element sprang into life.

"But no--but no, she would not do it. She would not teach her son to
destroy his own father. But something must have told him to come and
listen to me, to challenge me in his own mind, and then--then this
thing!"

He stared at the paper, leaning over the table, as though it were a
document of terror.

"I must go on: I must uphold the policy for which I've got the assent of
the Government." Suddenly his hands clenched. "I will beat him. He shall
not bring me to the dust. I gave him life, and he shall not take my life
from me. He's at the beginning; I'm going towards the end. I wronged
his mother--yes, I wronged him too! I wronged them both, but he does not
know he's wronged. He'll live his own life; he has lived it--"

There came a tap at the door. Presently it opened and a servant came in.
He had in his hand a half-dozen telegrams.

"All about the man that's going to fight you, I expect, m'sieu'," said
the servant as he handed the telegrams.

Barode Barouche did not reply, but nodded a little scornfully.

"A woman h